
EDNAS- BRAINERD 

COSY CORNER SERIES 


MI LUCENT 
IN ’DREAMLAND 















Book -ZS- t- 3 - 4 * 

Copyright ^ 0 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 















MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 












“ MILLICENT LAY BACK LAZILY.” 

(See page n) 



Cosu Corner Series 

MILLICENT IN 
DREAMLAND 


By 

Edna S. Brainerd 

S 

Illustrated by 

Etheldred B. Barry 



Boston jK JL «£* 

L. C. Page & Company 

* * J 9°3 


the: library of 

CONGRESS, 
Two Cowes Received 

JUL, 29 1902 


^Copyright entry 
'kkX m *3— 0 ^ •». / 0 2— 

CLASS ft- XXa No. 

5 ? 4 - 

COPY B. 



Copyright , ig02 
By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 


Published, July, 1902 



* «• * 

c c 


o 



Colonial JPteas 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 
. Boston, Mass,, U. S. A. 


DEDICATED 


TO 

MY SON 

(Sticon Keen 3$ramertt 

AND 

HIS LITTLE FRIEND 

Jfttllicent 3Tcfi!isic ©aplor 





CHAPTER 





PAGE 

I. 

The 

Flower Dream 


. 

. I I 

II. 

The 

Bicycle Dream 



. 19 

III. 

The 

Prune Dream 



26 

IV. 

The 

Doll Dream . 



• 34 

V. 

The 

Bee Dream . 



• 43 

VI. 

The 

Umbrella Dream 



• 53 

VII. 

The 

Picture Dream . 



. 60 

VIII. 

The 

Moon Dream 



. 72 

IX. 

The 

Fairy Dream 


. 

. 81 




PAGE 

“ Millicent lay back lazily ” {See page //) 

Frontispiece 

“ Millicent began . . . filling the basket 

WITH THE FLOWERS” . . ' . 

‘“I COULDN’T HELP IT,’ MUMBLED MILLICENT” 

“She ran on, faster and faster” 

“When the little sister was fast asleep” 

“ Millicent awoke to find her little play- 
mate, Gideon, shaking the hammock ” . 

“ She was still sitting at the window ” . 

“ Millicent placed the stool on a chair . 
“They sat perched along the foot -rail 


16 

24 

32 

40 

49 
5 1 

63 


OF THE BED ” 

“Clambered up the rose-bush” . 


73 

89 



MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


i. 

THE FLOWER DREAM 

Behind the big house where Millicent lived 
there was a garden. At the very end of the 
walk which separated the cabbages and onions 
and things from the roses and lilies and 
mignonette, there was a trellised arbour ; and 
here on sunny afternoons, Millicent often came 
with her book or her patchwork quilt to read or 
to sew, in the shade. 

It was too warm to read or sew this after- 
noon, so Millicent lay back lazily in the cool 
green of the vines that fell about the summer- 
house, and watched the bumble-bees as they 
staggered from flower to flower. What a croon- 


12 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


Jng, drooning sound they made, and what a 
drowsy afternoon it was, to be sure ! 

“ I’ve been thinking,” said a wee, little voice ; 
and Millicent started up suddenly to see who it 
was talking. And what do you think ? It was 
a Pansy ! A Pansy growing along the border of 
the walk, — a dear, velvety, little purple Pansy 
with the sweetest face and the softest eyes and 
the loveliest voice in the world — Millicent had 
to stoop to hear what the Pansy said. 

“ I’ve been thinking all day about something 
I saw before I came here.” 

“Well, that’s nothing,” responded another 
voice, — the voice of a big Rose that flaunted 
itself almost to the top of Millicent’s head. 

“ Pansies are for thoughts, you know,” went 
on the Rose. 

Now the strangest thing happened just then. 
The Rose had spoken to the Pansy in a very 
high, supercilious voice, and Millicent thought : 

“ What a very impertinent Rose ! ” but in- 
stead of thinking it, she really said the words 
aloud and the sound of her own voice startled 
her no little. 

“My, I wonder — ” but just here she real- 
ised that she was talking her thoughts aloud 


THE FLOWER DREAM 1 3 

and all the flowers seemed frightened when she 
spoke, so she shut her lips tightly together. 

“ I wonder if I’ll just have to stop thinking 
altogether ? ” she thought, or, rather, she spoke, 
for she found she could no longer think without 
uttering the words aloud. 

A Clematis vine growing over the trellis 
whispered in her ear : 

“Just don’t think questions or ugly thoughts, 
and you’ll be all right.” 

Millicent turned to thank the Clematis flower, 
but just then the Mignonette said to the Pansy, 
“ Well, tell us what you were thinking.” 

The Pansy went on in her low, little voice : 
“You know I grew up in the greenhouse at 
the other end of town. When I was just a 
baby, long before I had any leaves, they kept 
me in a great box covered with glass, but when 
I began to grow they planted me with lots of 
others in a row in the ground by the fence that 
ran across the back yard of the greenhouse. 

“Just across the road there was a hospital 
for little children who had no homes or fathers 
or mothers, and every day I used to stretch my 
neck to see them as they sat at the windows, 
the little children, sick or dying, and they all 


14 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


looked so pale and thin and wan that it made 
me feel selfish to think that I was down in the 
warm earth in the yellow sunshine, and that 
those little things were so lonely and cheerless. 
So I just made up my mind to grow and grow 
until I should be big enough to lean over the 
fence and nod to them, even if I couldn’t do 
anything more than that to make them happy. 
But just when my leaves were the prettiest, just 
when I had begun to bloom and bloom, the gar- 
dener took me up and carried me off, and here 
I am. Oh, it’s pleasant and lovely enough,” 
sighed the Pansy, “but I did want to do some 
good in the world, and I can’t help but think of 
the poor, pale little faces I saw at the windows, 
and how much I should like to make them 
smile — and I’m only good for thoughts.” 

The Mignonette and the Daisies, even the 
glorious Nasturtiums growing in a heart-shaped 
bed close by, all sighed when the Pansy had 
finished, and wished that they, too, might do 
some good in the world. 

“ If I could only go there, I’d rock them all 
to sleep,” sighed the Poppy. 

“ Ugh ! ” said the Rose, “ I’d much rather go 
to a ball.” 


THE FLOWER DREAM 


15 


“ For shame ! ” cried Millicent, loudly. 

“ For shame ! ” cried out the other flowers. 

A big Tiger-Lily, with a freckled face, was 
standing by the fence, and as she spoke every 
one turned to listen to her. 

“Now as far as we are concerned,” said the 
Tiger-Lily, “we are all helpless. We can do 
no good in the world except to drink sunshine 
and to grow and to bloom. But this little girl 
can do more toward making other people happy 
than all of us put together. We can stand here 
and wish and plan to do good, but after all we 
can’t move a petal unless the wind helps us a 
bit, but she - — she can make us happy and the 
children, too.” 

“Oh, dear me! ” said Millicent, “Just tell me 
and I’ll do it.” She was really very anxious, 
for the story the Pansy had told touched her 
tender little heart very deeply. 

“ Oh, yes, do tell her ! ” called out the flowers. 
“ What must she do ? ” 

“ Whack off our heads ! ” cried the Tiger- 
Lily, “ and put us all in a basket and take us to 
the hospital.” 

Some of the flowers shuddered and drew 
closer together when the Tiger- Lily said this ; 


1 6 MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 

but the Pansy laughed a low, little laugh and 
said to the other Pansies, “ We are ready to go, 
are we not, little sisters ? ” 

“ And we ! ” cried the Mignonette. 

“ And we ! ” cried the Poppies. 

“And we!” cried out all the Lilies and 
Daisies, Sweet-Williams, Geraniums, and Li- 
lacs. Such a chorus ! As sweet and as soft 
as the music the fairies make. 

“ Then whack ! ” cried the Tiger-Lily. “ Pm 
willing to go first.” 

“Oh, I just hate to do it,” said Millicent, 
tearfully, as she held the scissors in her hand. 
“ I never cared before, but now that I know you 
so and love you so it just seems I can’t cut your 
heads off.” 

“ But think of the good we can do in the 
world ! ” cried the flowers once more. “ And if 
we stay here we shall only wither and fade on 
our stalks.” 

“ It will really make us so much happier,” 
said the Poppy. 

So Millicent began snipping and snapping 
and filling the basket with the flowers. She 
left the Rose and the Pansy until the last — 
the Rose because of her haughtiness and 


THE FLOWER DREAM 1 7 


the Pansy because of her sweetness and hu- 
mility. 

She was not quite sure that she would take 



the Rose at all, after its proud, disdainful man- 
ner, and she was going to pass it by, when the 
Rose bent down and whispered, “Take me, too, 
please.” 


M1LLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


Millicent stooped and kissed the purple Pansy 
when she cut it, and a tear fell on its petals. 

“Never mind,” said the Pansy, “ I’m happy.” 

“I’m sure I can find the hospital,” said 
Millicent as she sat once more in the arbour and 
began to arrange the flowers. 

“What hospital, dear? What are you talk- 
ing about ?” and Millicent looked up to see her 
mother standing in the garden walk. The sun 
had gone down and the gardener was watering 
the flowers that raised their heads eagerly for 
a drink. The purple Pansy was dripping from 
its bath and the freckled Tiger- Lily was drenched, 
too. 

“ Oh, mamma ! ” cried Millicent, “ I have had 
the most beautiful dream, and you can help me 
make it come true if you will.” 

So Millicent told her mother all about the 
flower dream, and the next day they went 
together and made the dream come true. 


II. 

THE BICYCLE DREAM 

“ It’s a shame that I can’t go any farther 
than just around the block,” sighed Millicent as 
she sped along the broad asphalt pavement on 
her new Bicycle, with rubber tires and shining 
all over with nickel plate. 

It was a bright spring day and all the earth 
was fresh and smiling. 

“ I just wish I could go on for one hundred 
miles,” said Millicent, still talking to herself as 
she spun around the corner. “ If I only hadn’t 
promised mamma ! ” 

Just then a strange thing happened. Milli- 
cent was really going very swiftly, and when she 
started to turn the corner on the third side of 
the block she found, to her astonishment, that 
the Bicycle went straight on and wouldn’t turn ! 
She held her breath for a moment — it seemed 
so nice to go spinning down the street in that 
19 


20 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


irresponsible way, and then she remembered her 
promise to her mother, and she tried again to 
turn back, but the Bicycle wouldn’t turn and 
kept persistently going on and on so smoothly 
and swiftly that Millicent felt as if she were 
floating in the air. 

“Well, I’ll just have to go on until it gets 
ready to stop,” she laughed and leaned forward 
on the handle-bars, the Bicycle speeding onward 
and swerving neither to the right nor to the 
left. 

“ It’s lucky we’re headed for the country ” 
(you see, Millicent had no one to talk to, and 
so she had to talk to herself), “ for if we had 
gotten on to the down-town streets we might 
have run into a trolley-car or an omnibus.” 

By this time Millicent was beginning to wish 
the wheel would stop in its mad flight. For 
the streets were getting less and less crowded, 
and the houses on each side were smaller and 
there were fewer of them. 

But the Bicycle wouldn’t stop ! 

There were lots of dirty little girls and boys 
playing along in front of the houses, and they 
threw sticks and things at her and yelled and 
hooted as she vanished down the street. 


THE BICYCLE DREAM 


21 


“Well, anyway, they can’t catch me,” she 
thought, “unless I should fall off.” So she 
tried doing that, just to see if she could, but 
she found that she was unable to budge an 
inch off the Bicycle. 

“ I guess uncle was right when he said I was 
stuck on my wheel. Why-ee, it must be nearly 
noon ! I’m getting hungry and the sun is shin- 
ing right straight down. I do wonder what 
will happen next ? ” 

You see, by this time Millicent had become 
so accustomed to surprises that nothing really 
astonished her very much. She soon found 
herself out in the open country, with green 
fields on each side, the rail fences and green 
trees and green grass and budding flowers 
everywhere. 

“ Isn’t it lovely ? ” she gasped, for she was 
just a little bit tired of sitting up straight and 
going at such a rapid gait ; her tam-o’-shanter 
was askew and her hair was floating behind her 
in the breeze. 

She passed a schoolhouse , lying back in a 
green clump of trees, and the children laughed 
and shouted to see her speeding by. Some 
silly geese dabbling along in the dust of the 


22 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


road fluttered awkwardly out of her path with 
flapping wings and frightened hisses. Meek- 
eyed cows feeding along the hedges lifted their 
heads and stared at her. A pond in an adjacent 
field made her feel very thirsty, and she cried, 
angrily : “ When is this old Bicycle going to 
stop, anyway ? It must be past lunch time, and 
uncle has come home, and Gideon will be wait- 
ing for me, and mamma — oh, mamma will be 
frantic ! ” 

At the thoughts of her home and the tempt- 
ing luncheon she knew they would be having, 
and of her mother’s anxiety, Millicent’s heart 
began to swell, and two big tears came up into 
her eyes and rolled down her face. 

She passed a farmer’s wagon with a freckle- 
faced boy sitting high up on a load of hay, and 
the stupid wonder and amazement in his eyes 
made her laugh again. 

“ If only I could stop and get something to 
eat,” she sighed, as she passed a farmhouse. 
A little girl was swinging on a gate, eating 
a huge piece of bread and butter. 

“ Gimme a bite,” called Millicent, not very 
politely, she feared, but how could one be polite 
on a mad Bicycle so far away from home, tired 


THE BICYCLE DREAM 


23 


and hungry, and scurrying along the country 
like a mad thing ? 

Just then she came in sight of two houses, 
one right across the road from the other. 
There was smoke coming from the chimneys, 
and oh, such a delightful, spicy odour of baking 
as came to her nostrils ! 

Then Millicent saw a woman come out of the 
gate of one of the houses and start across the 
road to the other house ; she was carrying some- 
thing in her hand, and Millicent saw that it 
was a pie — a lovely golden-brown pie with 
crispy edges. Just then the woman looked up 
and saw Millicent coming, and stopped, holding 
the pie carefully before her, so that the strange, 
swift Bicycle might pass. 

Quick as a dart Millicent leaned forward and 
grasped the pie ! 

The woman ran after her down the dusty 
road, screaming and wringing her hands ; some 
children ran out and joined the chase, while 
a big dog suddenly appeared and went barking 
furiously after her. 

“ I couldn’t help it,” mumbled Millicent, 
with her mouth full of pie. “ I hope it wasn’t 
stealing. Oh, I wonder where I am and when 


24 MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 

I’ll stop ; and oh, I’m so tired ! ” And poor 
Millicent began to weep in earnest. The pie 
didn’t taste good ; it was too hot ; and then how 
could one eat when whirling along at this ridic- 
ulous rate ? 

“ If only I could run into a tree or stone or 



something ; if only something would stop this 
horrid Bicycle ! ” And she began to cry again. 
Her arms and legs ached and her head fairly 
swam with the rapid motion and her eyes were 
brimming with tears. 

Just then she saw a log in the road ahead of 
her, and she knew that the Bicycle must strike it 
and then it would surely stop in its mad career. 


THE BICYCLE DREAM 


25 


So she shut her eyes, braced herself against 
the handle-bars, and waited for the tumble. 

Over she went. The Bicycle stopped with 
a jerk and fell in the road with a loud tinkle of 
the bell. Millicent lay quite still for a moment, 
almost afraid to open her eyes, and she said 
a little prayer of thankfulness that at last she 
was off that horrid Bicycle, even if she was a 
hundred miles away from home and in a strange 
country. 

Then she opened her eyes — and — the lunch 
bell was ringing — and she had been dreaming 
in the sunshine on the couch by the window. 


III. 


THE PRUNE DREAM 

It was too warm to play and too sultry to 
sleep, so Millicent thought she would go out 
under the beechnut-trees and sew on her patch- 
work quilt. It was really going to be a wonder- 
ful quilt — such funny little odd coloured pieces 
put together zigzag and crosswise, and every 
way. 

“Well, I guess I’ll take a walk,” yawned 
Millicent, and she soon found herself in the 
depths of a cool, green wood. “ My, why didn’t 
I come out here before ? ” she thought to her- 
self as she walked along. “It is so cool — 
really almost too cool - — how funny, when I am 
only just a little way from home, where it’s as 
hot as an oven. Why-ee ! what is this ? ” and 
Millicent rubbed her eyes to see if she were 
really awake. 


26 


THE PRUNE DREAM 


27 


While she had been thinking to herself about 
the sudden change in the atmosphere, she had 
kept on walking and taking no notice of her 
surroundings until she suddenly emerged from 
the forest (which grew colder every step she 
took) and came plump out on an open meadow 
which was covered with snow. Right in the 
very middle of this snow-covered pasture (or so 
it seemed to be to Millicent) was a great big 
black iron kettle, with a lot of little iron kettles 
all around it, each one placed over a heap of 
burning fagots and filled with something that 
boiled and bubbled and steamed right up to the 
tops of the kettles. 

“Why, what on earth is this ?” queried Milli- 
cent aloud, and at her very feet a funny little 
voice answered: “This is the Hot- Water-Cure 
Springs. I came here a perfect wreck and took 
the cure — and just look at me now ! ” 

Millicent jumped about a yard and looked down 
to see where the queer little voice came from, 
and you can imagine her surprise when she saw 
at her feet — fat, round, and shining — a Prune ! 

Now Millicent was very fond of Prunes, and 
her first impulse was to stoop and get this one, 
for it was a very fat, delicious-looking Prune ; 


28 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


but to her consternation the Prune looked at 
her and said, in a pitiful tone of supplication, 
“Oh, please don’t eat me — just think what a 
time I have had ! Now I’ll tell you what I’ll 
do,” the Prune went on more brightly, “ if you 
will promise not to eat me I will show you all 
around and introduce you to all the other 
Prunes,” and Millicent’s Prune wobbled about 
to indicate “all the other Prunes,” and then 
Millicent saw there were Prunes everywhere, 
little Prunes, and big Prunes, shrivelled-up, old- 
looking Prunes, and great big fat, good-looking 
Prunes. Some of them danced about in rings 
or played games, and some of them lay perfectly 
still and quiet, or huddled up in heaps on the 
snow. 

“ Oh, do hurry up and tell me all about it,” 
cried Millicent, eagerly. “ I won’t eat you — 
cross my heart I won’t. But do tell me all 
about the hot-water cure, and how it happened 
to snow in August.” 

“ 'Tisn’t snow at all,” sniffed the Prune, con- 
temptuously ; “ it’s sugar ! ” 

“ Sugar ! ” echoed Millicent, “ I don’t believe 
it ! ” But, nevertheless, she stuck her finger in 
the snow and tasted it, and, sure enough, it 


THE PRUNE DREAM 


29 


was sugar, and not snow at all, and such acres 
of it — the folks at home never, never would 
believe it ! 

“Well, tell me all about it,” said Millicent, 
finally, looking for a place to sit down, but she 
couldn’t do that, for there was nothing in sight 
but sugar. Of course it would be just like sit- 
ting on the beach in the sand — only — well, it 
did not seem just the thing to sit down in the 
sugar, so she stood up. 

“Well,” said the Prune, gravely, “you see 
some of us — all of us, in fact — get in such a 
state that nothing on earth will bring us out ex- 
cept the Hot-Water-Cure Springs.” 

“ Why do you call it the springs ? ” inter- 
rupted Millicent, looking around. “ I don’t see 
any.” 

“ Stupid ! ” snapped the Prune ; “ because 
everybody springs into the kettle.” 

“Oh,” said Millicent, thoughtfully, “I see — 
well — go on.” And the Prune went on. 

“ Now you see all those kettles ? Well, they 
are all filled with hot water, and we all come 
here and bring our families for a few days and 
when we go home we look splendid — s-p-l-e-n- 
d-i-d!” reiterated the Prune. “Why, just look 


30 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


at me. When I came here three days ago I 
was that little and dried up and shrivelled that 
no one would look the second time at me, but 
every morning I rolled over in the sugar and 
took a spring into the kettles, and just look at 
me now ! ” Millicent looked the Prune over 
carefully and said : 

“ Well, you are certainly a beautiful Prune — 
and so much syrup on you, too,” she added. 

Millicent must have looked very hungrily at 
the Prune, for it drew itself up and shivered 
slightly and said, “Let’s change the subject — 
but then you know you promised you wouldn’t 
eat me.” 

It made Millicent a little vexed to be re- 
minded of her promise which she was crazy to 
break, — for it was a beautiful Prune — so she 
said, rather- sharply, “ I never break my promises 
— and besides, you’ve been asking me to ‘just 
look at you now ’ ever since I first came, and 
now the first time I do give you a good look 
you are afraid I’ll eat you.” 

All the time Millicent and the Prune had 
been talking, the other Prunes were wandering 
around in little groups, or rolling over in the 
sugar, or springing into the hot-water kettles, 


THE PRUNE DREAM 


31 


where they hobbled and boiled and bubbled up 
like mad. Millicent noticed, sure enough, that, 
while each Prune went in dry and wrinkled and 
old-looking, they all came out plump and shin- 
ing and juicy ; and she just wished she hadn’t 
promised that Prune she would not eat him. 
Still — she had only promised that about that 
one particular Prune — she hadn’t said she 
wouldn’t eat the others at all. So she just 
decided she would pick up a handful and run. 
The others couldn’t catch her — and besides — 
what harm could a Prune do, anyhow ? 

She stole softly up where quite a gathering 
of the nicest, fattest-looking Prunes were cool- 
ing off in the glistening sugar, and put out her 
hand to snatch a few — when — whew — there 
rushed at her every Prune at the Springs ! Oh, 
such a lot of Prunes, dry Prunes, and sticky 
Prunes, and big Prunes, and little Prunes, — 
millions of ’em, — striking her and sticking to 
her, and the faster she ran the harder the 
Prunes hit her. 

Poor Millicent ! She ran on, faster and 
faster, with the syrup tangling her hair and 
the sugar flying under her feet, and the Prunes 
raining down on her as thick as hailstones. 


32 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


Just as she thought she could go no further, 
she fell and struck her hand on something fine 
and sharp. 

It was the needle in her patchwork quilt — and 



the sun had gone down — and there were no 
cool, green woods, nor any sugar nor any Hot- 
Water-Cure Springs — and the Prunes hadn’t 
made her sticky at all. Anyhow, it had all 


THE PRUNE DREAM 


33 


happened and it was all very funny, but she 
knew no one would ever believe it. What a 
pity she didn’t eat that big Prune when she 
had the chance ! 


IV. 

THE DOLL DREAM 

Millicent had been sitting still for a long 
time ; from her nook in one comer of the 
room, behind huge palms and beautiful flowers, 
she could hear the sweet strains of the orches- 
tra, and watch the crowds of fashionably dressed 
ladies who came to the Doll Show. 

The Doll Show was distinctly a success ; 
there were Dolls from all over the World, — 
big Dolls and little Dolls, wax Dolls and China 
Dolls, boy Dolls and lady Dolls, and queer little 
foreign Dolls and rag Dolls. 

As Millicent’ s mamma was one of the ladies 
appointed to have charge of the sales for that 
day, Millicent had been allowed to spend the 
afternoon at the Doll Show if she would prom- 
ise to keep very quiet, and not get in the way 
of grown-up people. 


34 


THE DOLL DREAM 


35 


So she found this pretty corner amidst the 
ferns and palms, right where she could see the 
long table on which the Dolls were posed for 
display. 

They certainly were beautiful, the tall Dolly 
in the pink chiffon and the little Dolly in the 
white nainsook dress. 

“ If I could have my very own choice,” said 
Millicent, aloud, “I really don’t know which 
one I would choose.” 

Quick as a wink a Japanese Dolly turned to 
Millicent, and said, in a foreign little lisp, “ Oh, 
do tak-a me.” 

Millicent rubbed her eyes to see if she were 
awake, it all seemed so strange ; but just then 
a fat, pudgy little Doll from Germany, with a 
white cap and wooden shoes, cried out : “ Nein ! 
Nein — ich bin dein — ich bin dein ! ” 

Now Millicent had never studied German, so 
she wrinkled her brows, and said : “ Whatever 
can she mean by that, I wonder ? ” 

“ I’ll tell you what she means,” called out a 
little sailor lad, a beautiful sailor Doll with a 
blue flannel suit and flaxen hair. “ She means 
that she is yours ; she’s Dutchy — that’s the 
reason you can’t understand her. But say, 


36 MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 

now,” and the sailor lad lowered his voice con- 
fidentially, “ which one are you going to 
choose ? ” 

Then there arose such a clamour, that Milli- 
cent had to put her hands over her ears to shut 
out the noise. 

“Take me ! ” 

“ Take me ! ” 

“ Take me ! ” cried out every Dolly at the Doll 
Show, each in a different language of its own. 

Millicent began to laugh and said : “ Oh, but 
I can’t take you all, you know.” 

“I’ve an idea ! ” cried out the sailor lad, who 
seemed to be general spokesman for all of the 
other Dolls, probably because he had travelled all 
over the world and into every different country. 

The Dolls all nodded and smiled, for the 
sailor lad was a great favourite with them all. 

“ Well, what is it ? ” asked Millicent, and 
everybody turned attentively to the sailor. 

He said: “You see, she can only take one 
of you, — as for me, I’m marked * Sold,’ so I am 
out of it, — but suppose now that each one of 
you tell a story of where he or she lived before 
coming here, and the one who tells the most 
interesting story to the mind of the little girl, 


THE DOLL DREAM 


37 


that one she shall choose to be hers. Now 
isn’t that fair ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, it’s fair enough,” said the tall Dolly 
in the pink chiffon (who was from France, by the 
way). “ But I am sure my story will be uninter- 
esting enough. When I was taken from the 
factory where I lived with dozens of other Dolls 
just like me I was sent to a fashionable dress- 
maker, and she measured me, and stuck pins 
into me, and squeezed my waist in so tight that 
I could scarcely get a long breath. Really, 
though, I -did look lovely when she had finished 
me,” sighed the French Dolly, “ but she wrapped 
me in tissue-paper and put me in a box and 
shipped me off — and here I am.” And the 
French Doll picked up her pink chiffon train 
and sat down carefully. 

“ Well, that certainly is not what I would call 
particularly interesting — would you?” asked 
the sailor lad of Millicent. 

« Oh, I am sure I don’t know,” stammered 
Millicent — she was so much afraid of hurting 
the French Doll’s feelings. “ But, then, it 
wasn’t her fault, you know.” 

“ Well, Dutchy,” said the sailor lad, turning 
to the little German Doll, who fairly shook in 


38 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


her wooden shoes at being called upon to make 
a speech. 

“ Ach ! I cannot one speech make,” she 
cried. “ But I do not these shoes like — and 
I wish very much for the little shop in Dresden 
where I come from. There was one dear little 
old frau, with a mole on her chin already, and 
she keep the shop, which have candies all 
striped — and cookies made out of ginger and 
lollipops and marbles — and I — oh, I stand in 
the window, and the children do come every day 
by from school, and they look in at me and they 
smile to me — and I — oh, I want to smile back 
at them ! ” and the poor little German Doll 
burst into tears. 

“There, there, Dutchy, don’t cry. Crying 
won’t get you anything,” said the sailor, in his 
brusque way. 

“ Poor little thing ! ” said Millicent to herself, 
inwardly determined that she would buy the Ger- 
man Doll and get a little shop with striped candies 
and ginger cookies and lollipops and things. 

“Well, well,” shouted the sailor, “who wants 
to tell the next story ? ” 

The little Dolly in white nainsook held up 
one hand timidly. 


THE DOLL DREAM 


39 


“ I’m ’most afraid to talk,” she said, sweetly, 
“ but I’ve been so lonesome here in this big 
crowd and everything — and I just want to tell 
my story so that maybe I won’t be so homesick 
when I’m through.” 

“ Heave to — heave to ! ” shouted the sailor, 
heartily. “Tell your story.” 

“ Well, once there were two sisters who lived 
all alone in a little old house on the alley. 
They hadn’t any father or mother, or cousins or 
brothers. One of them was a little bit of a girl 
with yellow curls and brown eyes. She was the 
youngest. The other one, the oldest sister, was 
a cripple with a crooked back and a lame foot, 
and she sewed all day by the attic window to 
earn their bread and butter. 

“ Now the pretty little sister had no playthings 
at all — just a few empty spools strung on a string 
and a picture or two that some one had thrown 
in the street ; and she used to just wish and 
pray for a Doll. So early in the spring the 
lame sister began to save pennies, and along in 
the summer she bought me. She carried me 
home under her shawl and slipped me into the 
closet — you see, she didn’t want the little 
sister to see me until I was dressed. All day 


4 o 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


long the lame sister had to sew for her custom- 
ers, but at night, when the little sister was fast 
asleep, the lame sister would take me out of the 
box in the closet and measure and make my 
clothes for me. Sometimes the ladies used to 



give her scraps of the sewing left over, and she 
took these and pressed them and tucked them 
and stitched far into the night. And then, oh, 
how she used to talk to me ! She would tell me 
all of her secrets just as if I wasn’t a Doll, but 
a human being just like herself. * How happy 
we’ll make the little sister — won’t we, dear?’ 


THE DOLL DREAM 


41 


she would say to me, and there wasn’t a heart- 
ache or piece of good luck came to her that at 
night she didn’t tell me. 

“ Then the little sister fell ill, and for weeks 
she lay white and still in her bed and did not 
know the lame sister when she spoke to her. 
Then she began to get better and the doctor 
said she must have wine and jelly and the best 
of care. 

“ One day a lady came with some sewing 
and she opened the box and saw me. ‘ Oh, 
what a beautiful Doll ! ’ she exclaimed, ‘ and 
what exquisite clothes ! You must let me have 
this for the Doll Show. I never saw more 
beautiful work.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, madam ! ’ cried the little lame sister, 
‘it is for her when she is well on Christmas 
Day. I could not give it away.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, I will pay you twenty dollars for it,’ 
said the lady. 

“The lame sister caught her breath and the 
tears came to her eyes. The lady took twenty 
dollars out of her purse and laid it on the table, 
and the lame sister wrapped me up, crying and 
saying to me all the while : ‘ Oh, little Doll, I 
hate to let you go — we’ve been such good 


42 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


friends — but the money will buy her the wine 
and the jelly and, oh ! I must let you go.’ 

“So the lady took me — and here I am.” 

Just then Millicent felt a tweak at one of her 
curls and looked up to see her uncle standing 
by her side. 

“Well, girlie,” he said, “I came in to buy 
you a Doll. Which one do you want ? ” 

Millicent looked at the table where Dollies 
all stood in a row, and to her surprise they 
were all standing stiffly as they were before 
she fell asleep, — the tall Dolly in the pink chif- 
fon, the Japanese Dolly, the sailor Dolly, and 
the little Dolly in the white nainsook. 

“ I think I’ll take this one, uncle, if you 
please,” said Millicent as she put her hand on 
the little Dolly that the lame girl had dressed 
for her sister. 

So she held her up close and went home with 
her uncle. And from that day to this Millicent 
has been looking for the lame girl and the little 
sister, but she has never found her. And, 
strange to say, the little Doll in the white nain- 
sook never spoke again ; she just smiles sweetly 
and seems happy when Millicent talks to her 
about the day at the Doll Show. 


V. 


THE BEE DREAM 

There was a broad veranda all around the 
house, and Millicent lay in the hammock on 
the shady side and watched the little dappled 
places on the grass where the sun shone through 
the leaves of the trees overhead. 

The beehives were over by the garden fence, 
and Millicent loved to watch the Bees flying 
thither and buzzing about the flowers that grew 
between the palings. 

Now, while Millicent was swinging to and 
fro with her eyes closed, just enjoying the beau- 
tiful summer day and listening to the hum of 
the Bees, she heard a tiny voice close to her 
ear saying: 

“ Oh, dear ; I’m so busy ! ” 

“ Well, why don’t you do as I do ? ” answered 
another voice, still closer to Millicent. 

43 


44 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


“What! be a Drone?” said the first voice 
again. 

Millicent sat up in the hammock and looked 
about her. Flying off toward the lilies in the 
garden she saw a busy, brown-legged little 
Bee hurrying on with a package of yellow 
powder. Right by her side a lazy, shiftless 
Bee lay sprawled out on the edge of the 
hammock. 

“Well,” said Millicent, “are you the busy 
one or the Drone ? ” 

“ Drone,” answered the Bee, snappily. 

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” said 
Millicent. 

“ Well, what’s the use to work ? ” answered 
the Drone. “One gets just as much honey 
in the winter, and there are plenty of others to 
do it.” 

“ What kind of work do the Bees do ? ” asked 
Millicent again. She had often heard of the 
“busy Bee,” but she hadn’t really thought that 
they did work in earnest. 

“Why, they go out early in the morning, 
just as soon as the sun is up, and get all the 
sweet out of the flowers and carry it home.” 

“ Oh, where do you live ? ” cried Millicent, 


THE BEE DREAM 


45 


eagerly ; “ and may I go home with you, and is 
it far, and what is that you have all over your 
legs ? ” 

“ My ! but you ask questions,” said the 
Drone. 

“Uncle says that is the only way to find out 
what you want to know. But do come and tell 
me everything — that’s a good Bee. I’m just 
dying to see where you live.” 

“Well,” answered the Drone, “I went out 
in the flowers awhile this morning, and that’s 
pollen on my legs, and we live over there in 
the hives, and it isn’t very far — and I’ll take 
you if you can just wrinkle yourself up small 
enough.” 

“Oh, dear,” sighed Millicent, “I know I can 
never do that ! ” 

“Just watch me,” said the Bee, “and then 
maybe you can.” 

So the Bee spread its wings and flew over 
the fence, circling over and above the flowers, 
and wheeling about in the sunshine. 

“ Isn’t that lovely ? ” cried Millicent, and 
suddenly she felt herself growing smaller and 
smaller, with queer little wings growing out 
where her arms and legs had been, and she 


46 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


instantly wanted -to fly over in the flower 
beds. 

“Now say this after me,” said the Drone: 

“ Busy, busy, brown-legged Bee, 

Make a companion out of me.” 

So Millicent repeated the words after the Bee 
and flew off after him. 

“ Dear me,” she thought, “ I’m really a Bee ; 
I wonder if I’ll ever turn back into a girl 
again. Gideon will never believe it when I tell 
him.” 

Just then they came to the door of the hive, 
and Millicent and the Drone flew in. First, 
there came a long, narrow passage, and then 
they came to the cells or rooms where the Bees 
were flying and buzzing about, staggering under 
their great loads of sweets that they had brought 
from the flowers, and which they were carrying 
to the little cells so that it might be made into 
honey. Millicent stuck her finger — that is, 
what used to be her finger when she was a little 
girl, but which was now a funny little bit of a 
Bee leg — against the wall of the cell and put 
it to her lips, and sure enough, it was the sweet- 
est honey she had ever tasted. 


THE BEE DREAM 


47 


Finally they came to the throne-room, and 
there sat the Queen Bee on a throne made of 
violets, and wearing a crown made of the golden 
petals of a yellow flower. The roof of the 
throne-room was all yellow, and the walls and 
floors were of yellow wax, just as smooth and 
beautiful as could be. 

“ I’m glad I don’t have to walk,” thought 
Millicent, “for I never could stand up on this 
floor.” 

The Queen Bee sat up very proud and haughty 
on her throne, and there was quite a little court 
about her of other Bees buzzing around the 
throne. 

“ Don’t say anything now,” whispered the 
Drone to Millicent ; “ the Queen is holding 
court and she is about to try a case.” 

Millicent was just getting ready to ask what 
case, when the Queen Bee said, looking around 
the room at her subjects : 

“ A terrible crime has been committed and 
the offender must be found and punished.” 

Then the Queen Bee called twelve of the 
largest and finest Bees, who buzzed about her, 
and she said to them, in awful tones : 

“ This morning while the workers were busy 


48 MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 

in the garden some one threw a mucilage bottle 
at the hive ; I was out resting on a rose leaf, 
and when the bottle of mucilage struck the 
hive its contents flew all over me and stuck my 
front wings together, and I cannot get them 
apart ! Look ! look ! ” she said, holding her 
wings out so that all might see them. As she 
talked the Queen Bee’s voice grew louder and 
louder until she fairly screamed. Poor Milli- 
cent’s heart fell, and she tried to hide ; it was 
she who had thrown the mucilage bottle at the 
beehive just to see the Bees scatter, and now 
her sin was finding her out ! Oh, if she could 
just escape ! But she knew she could never 
find her way out of all those little cells and 
passages, and she felt in despair. 

Just then twelve Bees whom the Queen Bee 
had chosen flew straight at Millicent and car- 
ried her to the foot of the throne. 

“ She threw the mucilage bottle ! ” cried out 
the twelve Bees. 

“ What shall the punishment be ? ” cried the 
twelve Bees. 

“ Bring a tub of honey and drown her in it ! ” 
cried the Queen Bee, and the twelve Bees flew 
off after the tub of honey and the other Bees 


THE BEE DREAM 49 

thronged and buzzed about her in anger and 
consternation. 

Poor Millicent began to cry, and as she cried 
she felt herself turning into a girl again, and the 



more she cried the larger she grew, and the 
larger she grew the faster the tears fell. 

Then the room began to fill with her tears, 
and the Queen Bee fell off the throne and was 
drowned, and even Millicent’s feet began to get 
wet. 

“ Well, if I ever,” she said, in surprise, as she 


50 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


looked about her and saw all the little dead 
Bees floating in her tears. 

“Ever what?” asked a voice — a human 
voifce — and then Millicent awoke to find her 
little playmate, Gideon, shaking the hammock, 
and calling her out to play. 



“ SHE WAS STILL SITTING AT THE WINDOW. 






































VI. 


THE UMBRELLA DREAM 

“ It’s a shame it had to rain to-day so I 
couldn’t go,” said Millicent to the white kitten. 
“Don’t you know, puss, that I had the very 
most beautiful new organdy frock to wear, with 
pink ribbons, and a lovely leghorn hat, with a 
long white feather, and a great heap of roses on 
it? — I don’t know what to do. Fact is, there 
is nothing to do but sit and look out the window 
at the rain and watch the puddles, and wish I 
might have gone to the picnic.” 

Now Millicent never did know just how it 
happened, and to this day she is still wondering 
if it were a dream or a reality. While she was 
still sitting at the window, counting the Um- 
brellas going by, and watching the big rain- 
drops, and bemoaning her picnic and everything 
in general, what should happen but a great big 
burst of sunshine, which came and suddenly 
53 


54 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


flooded the pavement outside. The rain ceased, 
and left the streets as dry and clean as if it had 
not rained at all. There were lots of carriages 
going by, and traps, and phaetons, and dog-carts 
— a regular procession of them. 

“ Everybody in town must be going out driv- 
ing,” thought Millicent. Then she saw, to her 
astonishment, that there were no people in the 
vehicles at all — but just Parasols and Umbrellas 
and Sunshades. 

“Well, if I ever ! ” ejaculated Millicent aloud. 
“ I wonder how they drive and keep from run- 
ning over each other.” 

In the handsomer and more stylish turnouts 
were the most beautiful Parasols and Sunshades 
Millicent had ever seen. Some were black, 
with finely carved handles, and these sat up 
very straight and stiff, and bowed in a most 
dignified manner when they passed the other 
turnouts. 

Then there were white Parasols with ribbons, 
and blue Parasols with silver handles, and pink 
chiffon Parasols that lolled back against the 
cushions and nodded lazily to their acquaint- 
ances. 

Millicent noticed a funny thing — that none 


THE UMBRELLA DREAM 


55 


of the other Parasols or Sunshades seemed to 
notice the Umbrellas on the grocers’ carts or 
the fruit vender’s wagon ; and really they did 
look very commonplace beside all the other 
finery ; but Millicent remembered that she al- 
ways spoke to the baker’s boy, even when she 
had on her organdy frock. Some of the more 
plebeian Umbrellas were coloured — red or white 
or gray, — but most of them were a faded black, 
and all of them were cotton, and some of them 
had advertisements in big black letters on their 
sides. Some were patched, and some were tied 
up with strings, but they seemed to have lots 
more fun than the finer Parasols and Sunshades, 
for they joked and laughed and nodded be- 
tween themselves, while the silks and chiffons 
seemed bored, and to feel too much “ set 
up ” in the world to notice their commoner 
brothers. 

There was one beautiful pink chiffon Sunshade 
driving all alone in a high spider phaeton, with 
a tall, elegant black silk Umbrella perched up in 
front — to drive, Millicent supposed. The pink 
chiffon was simply a dream. And Millicent 
thought of her organdy dress and the pink 
roses and wished she only had that pink chiffon. 


56 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


But as it turned out, she didn’t want it, after all, 
and thought the pink chiffon very proud and very 
disagreeable. There were some very ordinary, 
but carefully patched and darned Umbrellas rid- 
ing about in an old-fashioned carryall. They 
had evidently driven in from the country, and 
were looking at everything with the greatest 
interest, when one of them spied the pink chif- 
fon and pointed her out to the rest, whereupon 
they all waved and danced about frantically and 
drove up to the spider phaeton, but the pink 
chiffon stared at them insolently for a second, 
and then flirted herself around, ordered the 
coach Umbrella to “drive on,” and snubbed her 
poor country cousins so that they shut their 
shabby-genteel selves up quietly, and drove off 
looking very much “ shut up ” indeed. 

“ Horrid thing ! ” said Millicent, indignantly. 

“Wasn’t she now?” answered an Umbrella 
standing near Millicent, who was watching the 
procession of turnouts. It was a short, stumpy 
Umbrella, with a very big round wooden handle 
and a cover that had once been black cotton 
but which was now a faded green. 

“Must be a professor’s Umbrella,” muttered 
Millicent. 


THE UMBRELLA DREAM 


57 


“ Right ! ” answered the Umbrella, cheerfully. 

“ Of what ? ” ventured Millicent again, seeing 
she might as well be friendly. 

“Nothing,” again replied the Green Um- 
brella, in the same bright tones. 

“ But that’s not being a professor at all,” 
argued Millicent. 

“My dear,” said the Green Umbrella, seri- 
ously (and Millicent began to expect some re- 
mark really interesting), “ My dear, we will 
change the subject.” 

“ But I really don’t want to change the sub- 
ject — ” began Millicent, when she was inter- 
rupted by a terrible clatter and shrieks, hoarse 
cries, and suddenly there dashed around the cor- 
ner, driven by a Red, White, and Blue Umbrella 
of enormous size, an old gray horse hitched to a 
United States mail-wagon. Clinging to the 
sides of the wagon was a cotton Umbrella of 
smaller dimensions, made of red and yellow 
canvas. The Red, White, and Blue Umbrella 
yelled and laughed and bobbled about on the 
sidewalk until he made Millicent dizzy with 
dodging him and burst his own sides with 
laughter. 

“ What is the matter ? ” asked Millicent, when 


58 MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 

the Green Umbrella finally stopped laughing 
long enough to pin up a long rent in himself. 

“ Oh, they are always at it,” he explained ; 
“the Red and Yellow Umbrella insists on mak- 
ing remarks about its being ‘too Dewey,’ and it 
makes the Red, White, and Blue Umbrella mad 
(more because the joke is so old than because 
of the joke itself), and so they go at it.” 

“ What’s too dewy ? ” asked Millicent. 

The Green Umbrella only glared at her, and 
the fight went on. The street was soon crowded 
with Umbrellas, each watching the difficulty in 
his own peculiar way. The Undertaker’s Um- 
brella wept copiously. The Lawyer’s Umbrella 
kept writing in the dust with his ferrule. The 
Auctioneer’s Umbrella yelled “ Going, going, 
gone,” until he was black in the face. The Old 
Maid’s Umbrella fainted, and the Doctor’s Um- 
brella tore himself into strips, so that there 
would be plenty of bandages when the fight was 
over. 

Now I can’t begin to tell you about it as 
Millicent afterward described it, nor how funny 
it looked to see two Umbrellas fighting — but 
the Green Umbrella laughed so, he had to go 
home for repairs ; and in the end, the Red, 


THE UMBRELLA DREAM 


59 


White, and Blue Umbrella left the Red and 
Yellow Umbrella in the ditch with three ribs 
broken and not a stitch on his frame, and went 
swaggering down the street followed by a shout- 
ing crowd of admirers. By this time the street 
began to look a little deserted, and it occurred 
to Millicent that now the sun was shining, she 
might go to the picnic, so she ran into the 
house ; but, once more at the window, she saw 
the White Kitten sleeping on the rug, and the 
rain still beating mercilessly on the pane, so she 
decided not to go. 

“ Anyhow,” Millicent said to the White 
Kitten afterward, “they needn’t any of ’em ever, 
ever, think they can whip anything that wears 
the Red, White, and Blue.” 


VII. 


THE PICTURE DREAM 

The nursery was a pretty room with low 
windows curtained in white, an open grate fire, 
and a table just covered with games and books. 

The walls were hung with pictures, lots of 
pictures ; pictures of birds and flowers and little 
children. 

Among the largest of these pictures there 
hung three that Millicent loved the best because 
they were painted in many bright colours and 
because they were the work of her uncle, who 
had given them to her at different times for 
birthday or Christmas gifts. 

One, the largest and most beautiful of all, 
was the picture of a dear little boy about Milli- 
cent’s own age : he wore a pretty blue suit 
trimmed in white braid, and his feet were clad 
in red stockings and black slippers with silver 
buckles on them. 


60 


THE PICTURE DREAM 


6l 


He had long golden curls and was seated in a 
swing high up in the branches of a big tree. 

He always seemed to be looking down into 
the nursery, this little boy in the picture, and 
he always wore a smile on his face, and Millicent 
often stopped in her play to look up at him and 
nod, but he never answered back to her greet- 
ings. 

Another picture was that of a long stretch of 
white sand, in the midst of which there stood a 
fine figure of a horse upon whose back there 
rode a man dressed in a strange foreign costume, 
his head wrapped about with a silken turban or 
scarf of many colours. 

The other picture in which Millicent delighted 
most was a snow picture. There was a great 
hill all covered and glistening with snow, and at 
the foot of the hill was a pond silvery with ice. 
Merry little children rode on bright red sledges 
down the steep incline and trudged gaily up to 
the top again, and the frozen pond was fairly 
alive with skaters. It was a pretty picture. 

As Millicent had a sore throat, she was not 
permitted to go to school this afternoon, so she 
wandered up to the nursery with the white 
kitten in her arms, her throat all bandaged in 


62 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


flannel. It was horrid and stupid to have such 
a cold, and the medicine she had taken left an 
ugly taste in her mouth. Besides that, she had 
no one to play with. 

So she romped on the rug with the white 
kitten for awhile and stood at the window for a 
long time looking out on the cheerless, deserted 
lawn where the trees were bare and shivering in 
the wind and the ground was covered with a 
carpet of crumpled brown leaves. 

“ Oh, dear,” sighed Millicent, “ I love the sum- 
mer so ; I wish it were never, never winter, and 
that the flowers were always blooming and the 
trees were always green.” 

“ Why not come up here with me ? ” said a 
very shy, sweet voice, and Millicent turned to 
see who had spoken. 

It was the little boy in the picture, and he 
smiled and nodded to her from his swing high 
up in the green boughs of the big tree. 

Now Millicent was not so very much sur- 
prised to see the little boy in the picture smile 
and beckon to her, nor to hear him speak to 
her, for, you see, she had always been expecting 
him to do so. 

So she just answered him : “How can I get 





“ MILLICENT PLACED THE STOOL ON A CHAIR, 




THE PICTURE DREAM 


65 


up — you are hung so high ? ” looking around 
to see if there was a chair or something to stand 
upon. But all the chairs were too low, and she 
could only manage to reach the lower part of 
the frame. 

“ Put that stool on the chair,” said the picture 
boy. “I’m sure you can reach it then, and I’ll 
give you a lift when you get up near enough.” 

Millicent placed the stool on a chair, and the 
little boy reached his hand out to her and she 
vaulted up into the swing beside him. 

“ Oh, oh, isn’t it beautiful ? ” cried Millicent ; 
for it was summer, and she was swinging up, 
up, up amidst the green leaves, and the air was 
warm, while all around and all below them 
there were green fields and golden grain and 
sunshine. 

Presently Millicent turned to the little boy, 
for she felt that she really ought to say some- 
thing to him. 

“ What is your name ? ” she asked, politely. 

“ Paul — what’s yours ? ” responded the pic- 
ture boy. 

“ Oh, my name is Millicent,” she answered. 
“ What country is this, and what place is that 
over there ? ” She pointed toward a town that 


66 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


lay miles and miles away, and where she could 
see many spires and steeples against the blue 
sky. 

“This is Ireland,” answered Paul, “and the 
town you see is Dublin, and that tallest steeple 
in the middle is Nelson’s monument ; I’ve heard 
my father talk about him,” went on Paul, 
proudly. “ Nelson was a great general, and 
they, the people of Dublin, built that monument 
to remember him by.” Paul stopped speaking, 
and his eyes twinkled merrily ; then he said : 
“ Oh, don’t you just wish that we could go over 
there ? ” then he added, sadly, “ but we can’t — 
it’s too far.” 

“ My ! ” exclaimed Millicent, who had been 
looking out of the frame and down into the 
nursery where the fire in the grate burned and 
crackled. “ Doesn’t it seem funny to be sitting 
up here in this picture and looking down into 
the room ? Oh ! oh ! oh ! just look at that old 
fellow on the horse — look! look!” she cried, 
pointing to the picture on the opposite wall. 
“ Why, he’s motioning to us ! What a lark ! 
Let’s jump down and go over there and see 
him. That’s Arabia ; I know, because uncle 
told me so, and that man on the horse is an 


THE PICTURE DREAM 67 

Arabian, and he is riding across an Arabian 
desert.” 

Quick as a wink the little Irish boy and Mil- 
licent jumped down from the picture and scam- 
pered across the nursery floor. 

The man on the horse smiled at them, and 
lifted them up into his frame and patted them 
on their heads, and, while he talked to them 
incessantly, the children could not understand 
one word he said. He seemed particularly 
pleased with Paul’s yellow curls, for his own 
hair was coarse and black, and while he looked 
very big and brave, he did not seem cross or 
dangerous. 

“ Oh, what a big world ! ” cried Millicent, 
looking around her. “ No wonder he got lone- 
some and wanted to see some one.” And it 
did, indeed, look like a big world, for, as far as 
the eyes could see, there was nothing but deep 
blue sky and hot, hot sun and drifts of white 
sand. Not a stick, not a house, not a tree nor 
flower was to be seen. 

“Goodness, it must be lonely when night 
comes on,” said Paul. 

Millicent sat down and let the white sand 
trickle through her fingers. “Just feel how 


68 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


warm it is,” she said to Paul. “ Let’s take off 
our shoes and stockings and wade in it,” she 
shouted in glee. And so they did, running and 
racing together, and throwing the sand at the 
tall Arabian who sat on his horse watching 
them, and who laughed with them in their 
play. 

Presently he looked at the sun and frowned, 
and, looking at the children, pointed to the 
nursery. 

“ Goodness, he looks mad, doesn’t he ? ” said 
Paul. 

“ No, I don’t think he’s mad,” answered Mil- 
licent, “ I think he means that we must go, for 
the sun is going down, and I guess he has 
a long way to go before he gets anywhere.” 

So the two children pulled on their shoes and ' 
stockings quickly, waved at their Arab friend, 
and then clambered out of the picture and down 
into the nursery again. 

“ Where can we go next ? ” asked Paul. “ I 
don’t have to get back in my frame until the 
nursery clock strikes six.” 

Millicent’s eyes fell on the snow picture. 

“ Oh, let’s go up there,” she cried, eagerly, point- 
ing to the picture where all the little girls and 


THE PICTURE DREAM 69 

boys were moving about up and down the hill. 
“That’s Russia.” 

Now, strange to say, our little friends had 
grown so accustomed to these unusual flights 
that nothing seemed impossible for them to 
attempt, and no sooner were the words spoken 
than they both dashed quickly into the snow on 
the hill where the sledges were carrying their 
burdens of little Russian girls and boys, all 
wearing coats and caps of costly furs, and some 
of them looking like big, woolly bears, so com- 
pletely were they wrapped from head to foot in 
the warm, brown fur. 

“ I hope we won’t get cold,” ejaculated Paul. 

“Well, if we do,” answered Millicent, “there 
are all those funny little stoves up and down 
the hill ; and then, anyway,” she went on, “ we’ve 
only to take a jump and land right down in the 
nursery in front of the fire.” 

So they caught hold of hands and went danc- 
ing up the hill and through the snow, laughing 
merrily at the queer little Russian folk who 
stared at them and pointed to them and spoke 
of them in a strange language. 

“Dear me,” sighed Millicent, “just look at 
that poor little fellow over there ; he hasn’t any 


7 o 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


sled or any skates and barely enough clothes on 
him to keep him warm. I just believe I’ll go 
back down into the nursery and get a shawl or 
a table-cover or something. I’m sure mamma 
wouldn’t care,” and Millicent, warm-hearted 
little girl that she was, turned and looked at 
Paul, questioningly. 

“Silly,” cried Paul. “He’s only a picture- 
boy and don’t feel at all.” 

Millicent opened her eyes widely. “ Why-ee,” 
she exclaimed, “ and why do they have the 
stoves, then ? and you’re a picture-boy, too, and, 
oh, I guess you’ll have to explain a lot of 
things.” 

If Paul was only a picture-boy, he was enough 
a real boy to laugh at Millicent’s outburst, and 
presently she, too, forgot her anger, and they 
left the little peasant boy and went to playing 
again. Up the hill and down again — plunging 
in the snow and pelting each other with snow- 
balls ! Oh, how the sleigh-bells jangled ! and 
how the keen, frosty air made Millicent’s cheeks 
glow, and what a jolly time they had ! 

“ It’s even more fun than Arabia and the 
sand or Ireland and the swing,” she cried, 
laughingly, and then seeing a grieved look on 


THE PICTURE DREAM 


7 1 


Paul’s face she hastened to add, “ No, no, not 
more fun than Ireland and the swing, for then 
I should never have met you, dear Paul.” 

Just then they heard six slow strokes of the 
nursery clock, and Paul grasped Millicent’s hand 
and together . they rushed wildly out of the 
frame and down into the nursery. 

Then Millicent felt Paul’s hand in hers no 
longer — she looked about her, but Paul was 
gone. Then with a little sigh she looked up at 
the picture in the frame. There he sat in his 
old accustomed place, swinging, swinging up 
amidst the green boughs of the big tree, his 
long curls as sunny as the sunshine about him, 
his little smiling face turned toward her. 

She waited for a moment and then smiled at 
him and waved her hand to him, but he did not 
answer to her greetings. 

Slowly she turned and looked about the room. 
The Arab sat his horse stolidly — no movement 
from him now. She glanced at the snow scene 
in Russia, but the little children were hushed 
and still, and she could hear neither the laughter 
in their voices nor the merry jangle of the bells. 

“ I guess that must have been a dream,” said 
Millicent, sadly, to the white kitten. 


VIII. 


THE MOON DREAM 

It was hard for Millicent to go to sleep that 
night. She counted sheep jumping over the 
fence, and said the alphabet backwards, but as 
this brought her no nearer sleep she just closed 
her eyes and hummed little songs and things to 
herself which made her drowsy, and she would 
soon have been fast asleep but for a little voice 
which sighed in her ear : “ Oh, I do hate to 
wake her up.” 

“Well,” answered a voice on the other side 
of Millicent’s pillow, “ we can carry her more 
easily if she is asleep.” 

“ Well, for goodness’ sake, who is talking ? ” 
asked Millicent, without opening her eyes, for 
she really thought she was dreaming. 

The answer came in a merry gurgle from a 
thousand little throats, “ We are the Moon 
Goblins ! ” and then there was silence. 


72 


THE MOON DREAM 


73 


Millicent opened her eyes. They sat perched 
along the foot-rail of the bed — the funniest 
little Moon Goblins you ever saw, with high 
peaked hats and spiked-tail coats — with a 
broad grin on their faces and just shining all 
over with merriment ; they hung on the chande- 
liers, they scampered up and down the muslin 



curtains, and played hide-and-seek about the 
room. 

Millicent looked at the little group standing 
about her pillow, and asked : “ Was it me you 
were talking about carrying somewhere, and 
where to ? and now that I am awake, why can’t 
I just walk right along with you?” These 
questions came from Millicent, as all her ques- 
tions did, rapidly and many of them. 


74 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


“Well, I just want to know,” burst forth 
Millicent, “who has a right to order me taken 
to the Moon, and besides, how in the world do 
you suppose you would carry me?" 

“ Well, you see it’s this way,” answered the 
Moon Goblin. “ The Man in the Moon is get- 
ting lonesome, and he looked through his big 
telescope and saw you down here and sent us 
for you. You see, there is going to be a big 
Moon Feast, and there is no one to sit at the 
other end of the table — at least no one near 
his own size. 

“Now, as far as carrying you there,” went on 
the little goblin, “just look at yourself. You 
are all ready ; do you see ? ” 

Millicent looked down, and found to her sur- 
prise that she was wrapped round and round 
with the softest, shiniest bands of ribbon that 
she had ever seen. 

“ Oh, what is it ? ” she cried, “ and where did 
you get it ? ” 

“ Moonbeams,” answered the goblin. “ As 
we came through from the sky, we stopped at 
a bed of roses and wound the pink moonshine, 
and wove another band from the moonlight 
on a violet bed. That silver ribbon we 


THE MOON DREAM 75 

found where the Moon was shining on the 
lake.” 

“ How beautiful ! ” said Millicent, softly. 

“ We must be going, going,” sang all the 
little goblins in the room, as they gathered 
about the bedside, and Millicent felt herself 
lifted gently into the air and to the open win- 
dow, from where a broad path of silver moon- 
light led straight up to the Moon. 

“ How far is it ? ” she asked, as they sped 
quickly on the journey. 

“ Two hundred and thirty-eight thousand, six 
hundred and fifty miles,” shouted the goblins. 

“Oh, dear, we’ll never get there,” sighed 
Millicent, looking back where even now trees 
looked like little shrubs, and the town like the 
houses of a toy village. 

In a moment all had vanished, and then Milli- 
cent heard the goblins singing, “ We are coming 
— we are coming.” She closed her eyes. They 
went through the air like a rush of wind, and 
then they went slower, and slower, and slower, 
until they finally laid her gently down. 

“We are here — we are here,” chanted the 
goblins. 

Millicent opened her eyes and jumped up 


76 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


excitedly. “Are we really in the Moon ?” she 
cried. She looked about her. There was no 
doubt but that she was in the Moon. 

It was a strange and beautiful country. The 
Moon Goblins danced and pranked about. 
Everything was moonlight, and Moon flowers 
grew everywhere. 

“ And when am I going to see the ‘ Man in 
the Moon ’ ? ” asked Millicent, looking about 
her. 

“ Here — here,” cried the Moon Goblins, “ he 
is on the other side of the Moon now, but if 
you’ll just look through this telescope you can 
see how he looks.” Millicent put her eye to 
the telescope — when, whew ! it shut up with a 
click — and Millicent was shot through, right 
through the Moon, head first, and landed plump 
in the arms of the Man in the Moon ! 

“ Oh, ho,” cried the Man in the Moon. 

“I beg your pardon,” exclaimed Millicent, 
breathlessly. 

“ Don’t mention it,” cried the Man in the 
Moon, politely, and then he added, “Can you 
tell me if a cranberry grow on a pineapple-tree, 
what should a potato ? ” 

Millicent stopped and puzzled a minute, “ I 


THE MOON DREAM 


77 


don’t know,” she answered. “ I can’t see 
through that. But really I think it very im- 
polite of you to begin asking conundrums before 
you ask if I am hurt.” 

“Well, I knew you couldn’t be hurt,” said 
the Man in the Moon, “because you’re rubber.” 

“ Rubber ! — I ! ” cried Millicent. 

“Yes — pinch yourself — and see.” 

What the Man in the Moon said, was true — 
Millicent had turned to rubber. “ How funny ! ” 
she thought. “ Here I go in at the little end 
of the telescope a real live girl, and come out 
of it a rubber one.” 

So far, Millicent had taken no time to observe 
the appearance of the Man in the Moon, so now 
she looked at him critically. 

He was not at all as she had imagined he 
would be. He had the roundest, smoothest, 
merriest face, and was no taller than Millicent 
herself, but by the size of the little Moon 
Goblins, who were about the size of Milli- 
cent’ s hand, they were both like enormous 
giants. 

“ Well, what do you think of it all ? ” said the 
Man in the Moon, interrupting Millicent’s 
thoughts. 


78 MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 

“It looks like a ghost world,” she answered ; 
“you can just see right through things ! ” 

“ Oh, ho ! ” roared the Man in the Moon, glee- 
fully, “I guess you didn’t see through the 
telescope, did you ? ” and “ Oh, ho ! ” he roared 
louder, and laughing till his little round body 
shook, and “ Oh, ho ! I guess you didn’t see 
through my little joke, did you ? ” 

“Oh, that’s so — I forgot,” said Millicent, 
“ If a cranberry grow on a pineapple-tree, what 
should a potato ? ” 

“ Oh, ho ! ” cried the Man in the Moon. 
“ Ask the cranberry — ” 

Millicent started to answer rather sharply, 
by giving her opinion of this joke, when she 
heard voices singing. “The Moon Feast, the 
Moon Feast,” called the Man in the Moon 
loudly — “Will you take my arm?” said he 
politely to Millicent. So Millicent took his 
arm and they paraded pompously to the Moon 
Feast, while thousands and thousands of the 
elfish little goblins capered and danced before 
them. 

As they neared the scene of the feast, Milli- 
cent could distinguish the words of the song 
the goblins were singing. 


THE MOON DREAM 


79 


‘ ‘ Moon — moon — moon — 

Beautiful, beautiful moon, 

I’m glad I am a little goblin 
A-living in the beautiful moon ! ” 

“ Why, that’s the tune of ‘ Coon — Coon 
— Coon’ cried Millicent. “Just think! Rag- 
time in the Moon ! ” 

Now Miliicent’s curiosity had reached its 
height, and she was anxious for the feast to be- 
gin. Where would they eat, and what would 
they eat ? and what a jolly old fellow the Man in 
the Moon was, to be sure ! 

On they hurried, going faster with every 
step. Poor Millicent, breathless and panting, 
soon found they were leaving her far in the 
rear. 

“ I can’t go another step,” she shouted to the 
Man in the Moon, who was hurrying onward. 
“ I am going to sit down here and rest, and then 
I’ll come on.” 

“Oh, ho ! ” cried the Man in the Moon, “we’ll 
wait for you at the end of the Silver Lane.” 

Poor Miliicent’s head sunk on a moonlit 
bank, try as she would to keep awake, and she 
fell asleep. 

She never did know how long she slept, for 


8o 


MILL1CENT IN DREAMLAND 


when she awoke the sun was streaming in at 
her window and she realised it was too late to 
join her friends at the end of the Silver Lane. 

“ Oh, dear, oh, dear,” sighed Millicent as she 
dressed herself for school. “He was such a 
jolly Man in the Moon ! I wonder who sat at 
the other end of the table, and I do wonder 
‘ if a cranberry grow on a pineapple-tree, what 
should a potato ? ’ ” 


IX. 


THE FAIRY DREAM 

Millicent closed her book with a sigh. The 
White Kitten was curled up in the sunshine on 
the window-seat, and Millicent went on talking 
to herself. “ Oh, I’m so sorry to grow up and 
get old. Everything is just spoiled. I used to 
just love to read about Cinderella and Jack-the- 
Giant-Killer, but since I’ve grown so old and 
found out there isn’t any Santa Claus, and there 
are no fairies, I don’t care to read about them 
at all.” 

“ Dearie me, dearie me!” exclaimed a soft 
little voice at her side, “No fairies ! are you 
sure ? ” and Millicent looked up to see the 
quaintest little figure standing on the window- 
seat by the White Kitten. It was the very 
merriest, cutest figure of a little old lady that 
you ever saw, and although she wore a troubled 
look on her diminutive face, it did not hide the 
kindly smile under the mob-cap that she wore. 

81 


82 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


“ Oh ! ” gasped Millicent. “ Who are 
you ? ” 

“I am the Fairy Godmother,” answered the 
quaint little old lady, leaning toward Millicent, 
“and it just pains me to find that you don’t 
believe in us.” 

Then Millicent saw that the little old lady 
carried a broomstick and that she wore funny 
old-fashioned skirts that flared out at the ankles 
and that she stooped when she walked and that 
her hair underneath the white mob-cap was as 
white as the driven snow. 

“ So you don’t believe there are any fairies ? ” 
went on the little old lady. “ Well, I can just 
prove to you that there are, and that grown-up 
folks don’t know what they are talking about 
when they tell you there is no Santa Claus and 
that there are no fairies. I can’t take you to 
Santa Claus to-day, but I will take you to a 
place where the fairies are ; and then you will 
believe, and then you will love your books and 
fairy stories just the same.” 

“ Oh, dear, good, kind Fairy Godmother, 
please do!” cried Millicent. “You don’t know 
how I miss them. Please take me, and let us 
go quickly.” 


THE FAIRY DREAM 


83 


Just here a really funny thing happened. 
The White Kitten, which was slumbering so 
peacefully in the sunshine, opened one eye, 
and winked slowly at Millicent, saying, as she 
did so, “ I think I’ll go, too.” 

Millicent was so surprised she could scarcely 
speak, for it was the very first time the White 
Kitten had ever spoken to her, but she sat bolt 
upright, and said to the little old lady, “ Oh, yes, 
yes, let us go at once ; and can we take the 
White Kitten with us ? ” 

The little old lady curtsied to Millicent and 
then to the White Kitten, and said, “ Yes, we 
will all go.” 

So the White Kitten arched her back, and 
rose and followed Millicent and the Fairy God- 
mother. 

It seemed but a moment to Millicent until 
they arrived at a low, shabby cottage on the 
outskirts of a village, and, stopping at the door, 
the Fairy Godmother said, “ Dearie me, dearie 
me, I can go no farther with you,” and then she 
went on talking as she waved her tiny broom- 
stick about, and speaking for all the world like 
a tale out of a story-book. 

“ This is the humble cottage of a poor widow 


8 4 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


and her son. They are very poor, but the 
mother is a wise and gentle woman, and the 
lad, her son, has been named Prince Happy- 
Heart by the neighbours, because he is always 
so merry and full of laughter and good cheer. 
He makes the life of his poor widowed mother 
very happy with his blithe and sunny ways, and 
the whole village love him. Now I must away,” 
continued the Fairy Godmother, “but I will 
leave you this silver whistle, and, whenever you 
want me, all you have to do is to place this 
whistle to your lips, take a long breath, and I 
will be with you,” and the Fairy Godmother 
faded into nothingness. 

Millicent held the silver whistle in her hand, 
and looked inquiringly at the White Kitten. 
But the White Kitten had curled herself up on 
the doorstep, and was fast asleep. 

“ Well, I wonder what will happen next,” said 
Millicent, aloud, still gazing in wonderment at 
the silver whistle. “ It’s just like a dream or a 
fairy story.” 

She had not long to wait, however, for she 
heard voices inside the cottage, and then there 
came to the door a tall fair young man, followed 
by a dear sweet-faced old lady. 


THE FAIRY DREAM 85 

“ Prince Happy-Heart and his mother,” whis- 
pered Millicent to herself. 

Happy-Heart kissed his mother tenderly, say- 
ing, as he did so, “ Do not weep, dear mother, I 
will go out and seek work, and bring you home 
something to eat before nightfall. The good 
Princess Rosemonde passes through the village 
to-day to the grand tournament, and mayhap 
she will see me and take pity upon us, and make 
me a page in her court. Good-bye, little mother.” 

Now Prince Happy - Heart went so swiftly 
down the village street, that Millicent had hard 
work to follow him, but she ran breathlessly 
behind him, the White Kitten at her heels. 

Suddenly she heard the music of fife and 
drum, and Prince Happy-Heart stopped at one 
corner of the street, and took off his ragged 
cap, his yellow curls glistening like gold in the 
morning sunlight. The street was thronged 
with people, and every one was shouting, “Ho, 
to the Princess Rosemonde ! Ho, to the Prin- 
cess Rosemonde ! ” 

No one seemed to pay any attention to Milli- 
cent and the White Kitten, and they kept close 
to Happy-Heart. 

Then the grand cavalcade came into view. 


86 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


First there were the Trumpeters, marching 
four abreast, all clad in scarlet hose and 
breeches, with long hair waving in the breeze, 
and after them were Knights and Lords and 
Ladies riding on beautiful snow-white horses 
with palfreys shining with gold. 

Then came the Lord High Chamberlain, and 
then came the Princess Rosemonde ! 

She was very young and very fair, and she 
was clad in a long purple robe with jewels in 
her hair, and a great bunch of roses in her 
hands. She looked sweet but very sad, for 
she was being sent by her father, the King, 
into another Kingdom, of which Lovinglips was 
the Prince, and who was to become her hus- 
band. But the Princess Rosemonde was not 
happy in being thus mated to Prince Lovinglips, 
and she wore no smile on her beautiful face, 
for she wished to marry some one who loved 
her for herself alone, and not because she was 
a Princess of high degree. 

Now no one told Millicent all these things, 
but she seemed to know intuitively about them, 
and she thought at once : “ What a fine couple 
they would make, Prince Happy-Heart and the 
Princess Rosemonde.” 


THE FAIRY DREAM 


87 


Just then the Princess Rosemonde turned 
and saw Happy-Heart. He was standing, cap 
uplifted, on the street, with the sun shining on 
his long golden curls,' and his eager, happy face 
wreathed with smiles at the sight of the beauti- 
ful Princess. Princess Rosemonde looked long 
at him, and then choosing from amongst the 
flowers which she held to her breast the loveli- 
est and longest pink rose, she flung it at the feet 
of Prince Happy-Heart. 

Happy-Heart smiled, and bowed low to the 
ground, and raised a flushed and happy face to 
the Princess, and she passed out of his sight. 

Then, as if by magic, the whole cavalcade 
vanished, and Millicent found herself and the 
White Kitten once more at the door of the 
humble cottage belonging to Happy-Heart and 
his poor widowed mother. 

It seemed that it was almost night, for the 
sun was going down and the air was still and 
quiet. Happy-Heart sat on the doorstep, his 
head bowed between his hands, and there were 
tears in his eyes. 

Presently he spoke, “ All day I have sought 
and have found nothing. How can I go into 
the house and tell my dear mother that I have 


88 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


nothing for our evening meal. Ah, woe is me ! 
woe is me ! ” 

Happy-Heart seemed to weep for some 
moments, and then, raising his head, he saw 
the long-stemmed pink rose which the Princess 
Rosemonde had flung to him that morning. He 
lifted the rose to his face and kissed it ; and 
then digging a little hole in the ground by the 
cottage door he placed the stem of the rose 
therein and said, “ Grow, little rose, poor little 
rose, grow and be happy because she once held 
you to her breast,” and Happy-Heart kissed the 
rose again and went into the cottage. 

It seemed but a few moments to Millicent 
until the moon came up over the tree-tops, and 
once more she saw Prince Happy-Heart come 
forth from the cottage, and then she gave a little 
cry of surprise. 

The beautiful rose of Princess Rosemonde 
had grown, grown, grown, until it reached far 
up into the sky and you could not see the top of 
it. Happy-Heart peered up into the clouds, 
and then, throwing his coat on the ground, he 
began to climb quickly up the branches of the 
rose-bush. 

Millicent tweaked the ear of the lazy White 
L.oFC. 


THE FAIRY DREAM 


89 


Kitten. “ Come 
on,” she said. 
“Come on. 
Let’s follow 
him.” 

So Millicent 
and the White 
Kitten clam- 
bered up the 
rose-bush after 
Prince Happy- 
Heart. It 
seemed a long 
way, and Milli- 
cent stopped 
often to catch 
her breath and 
to see that the 
White Kitten 
was behind her 
and Happy- 
Heart still ahead 
of her. There 
were beautiful 
roses growing at 
every step, and, 



90 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


strange to say, there were few thorns to impede 
their progress. 

“ For all the world like Jack and the Bean- 
stalk,” said Millicent. “ Only I do hope there 
isn’t any wicked giant at the top.” 

Then they reached the very top of the rose- 
bush, and Millicent gave a little cry of delight 
at the sight that lay before her. 

For miles and miles there stretched a beauti- 
ful garden of roses, great, long-stemmed pink 
roses ; roses blooming in hedges all about a 
crystal palace, and roses twined in arbours, and 
roses trailing up the turrets and falling like 
curtains down over the windows. 

Happy-Heart, who was hurrying along before 
Millicent down the hedgerows of roses, heard 
her exclamation of joy, and he stopped and 
turned to her, saying, “ Ssh ! don’t make any 
noise ; you will frighten them.” 

“Frighten who?” asked Millicent, delighted 
that at last Happy-Heart had noticed her, and 
that she had some one to speak to beside the 
stupid White Kitten, who simply ran along 
behind her and wouldn’t talk. 

Happy-Heart pointed to the roses growing 
everywhere, and then Millicent saw that each 


THE FAIRY DREAM 


91 


one had a face, and that in reality they were not 
roses at all, but beautiful, beautiful maidens. 

“ Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! ” cried Millicent, softly. 

“They are the Maids of Honour to the 
Princess Rosemonde,” whispered Happy-Heart. 
“This is her court day, and there are three 
Princes to be brought before her, one of whom 
she must choose to be her husband. Oh, if I 
were only a Prince ! ” sighed Happy-Heart. 

Now Millicent so loved Happy-Heart that 
she cried, loudly, “Why, you are a Prince — 
and I’m sure she’d love you best of all.” 

Instantly a whole bevy of the Rose Maidens 
came toward Happy-Heart, and, bowing very 
low before him, they led him straight up to the 
throne, to the feet of the Princess Rosemonde. 

The Princess blushed, and looked bewildered 
for a moment, and then, waving her white hand 
toward Happy-Heart, she nodded to the Lord 
High Chamberlain that he might proceed ; so 
he called out loudly, in his monotonous way : 

“ Who speaks for this suitor of the Princess 
Rosemonde ? Who speaks for this suitor of the 
Princess Rosemonde ? ” 

Poor Happy-Heart stood pale and trembling 
before the throne, but no one came forward to 


92 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


speak for him, and the Lord High Chamberlain 
was just about to send him from the palace, 
when Millicent sprang forward, and, facing the 
Princess and the Lord High Chamberlain, said : 

“ I speak for this suitor to the Princess 
Rosemonde ! ” 

“ Is he of royal birth ? ” asked the Lord High 
Chamberlain, scowling at Millicent. “ No one 
less than a prince or a duke dares to ask for the 
hand of the Princess Rosemonde. We have 
already refused two dukes and a couple of lords 
for her to-day ; so beware unless this suitor be 
at least a Prince, if not a King.” 

Millicent felt very badly for a moment, and 
then seeing how forlorn Happy-Heart looked, 
and how truly noble he was, she answered, 
rather sharply : “ What right have you to 
choose for the Princess whom she shall wed ? 
Why don’t you just ask her who she loves and 
let them marry and live happy ever after ? Any- 
how, Happy-PIeart is a Prince, every one calls 
him Prince Happy-Heart, just because he is so 
kind and noble of heart, which is better, after 
all, than your dukes and princes of royal birth.” 
Millicent turned to the Princess Rosemonde, 
and continued, “Oh, dear, beautiful Princess 


THE FAIRY DREAM 


93 


Rosemonde, take Prince Happy-Heart ; he loves 
you so much — and beside that, you two must 
marry, so as to finish it all just like a story.” 

Suddenly Millicent thought: of the silver 
whistle, and, putting it to her lips, she drew 
a long breath. “Just wait; I’ll call the Fairy 
Godmother ; she can fix it up all right.” 

The whole court was in an uproar. The Lord 
High Chamberlain forgot his dignity, and tore 
his curled white wig, and shouted a dozen differ- 
ent orders at once. The Rose Maids of Honour 
ran hither and thither wildly, not knowing what 
to do next ; for you see the P'airy Godmother was 
a great personage, and every one knew that she 
could work good or evil by her coming. Happy- 
Heart knelt at the feet of the Princess Rose- 
monde, and then Millicent saw that the Fairy 
Godmother had obeyed the silver whistle, and 
that, instead of a ragged, shy Prince Happy- 
Heart, there was a glorious Prince Happy-Heart, 
with many followers holding a golden canopy 
over him. Close behind him stood his mother, 
all clad in silk, and near her the Fairy God- 
mother. 

Then the Fairy Godmother, flashing a smile 
at Millicent, who stood open-eyed with astonish- 


94 


MILLICENT IN DREAMLAND 


ment, held up one hand, and every one hushed 
instantly, and the whole court was quiet. 

“ Silence ! ” roared the Lord High Chamber- 
lain. “ Silence ! the Fairy Godmother is about 
to speak ! ” 

Millicent opened her eyes, and found the 
White Kitten sitting up on the window-seat 
washing its face with its paws. She stared 
stupidly for a moment at the White Kitten, at 
the book of fairy stories lying by her side, and 
then she said, with a sigh, “ I’m sorry the Fairy 
Godmother didn’t get to make the speech.” 


THE END. 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall 
contain only the very highest and purest literature, — 
stories that shall not only appeal to the children them- 
selves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with 
them in their joys and sorrows, — stories that shall be 
most particularly adapted for reading aloud in the 
family circle. 

The numerous illustrations in each book are by well- 
known artists, and each volume has a separate attract- 
ive cover design. 

Each, i vol., i6mo, cloth . . $0.50 

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON 

The Little Colonel. 

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its 
heroine is a small girl, who is known as the Little 
Colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an 
old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and 
old family are famous in the region. This old Colonel 
proves to be the grandfather of the child. 

The Giant Scissors. 

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in 
France, — the wonderful house with the gate of The 
Giant Scissors, Jules, her little playmate, Sister Denisa, 
the cruel Brossard, and her dear Aunt Kate. Joyce is 
a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes 
shares with her the delightful experiences of the “ House 
Party ” and the “ Holidays.” 


2 


Z. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON (Continued) 

Two Little Knights of Kentucky, 

Who Were the Little Colonel’s Neighbors. 

In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an 
old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is 
not, however, the central figure of the story, that place 
being taken by the “ two little knights,” Malcolm and 
Keith, little Southern aristocrats, whose chivalrous na- 
tures lead them through a series of interesting adven- 
tures. 

Cicely and Other Stories for Girls. 

The readers of Mrs. Johnston’s charming juveniles 
will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for 
young people, written in the author’s sympathetic and 
entertaining manner. 

Big Brother. 

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of 
Steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the 
theme of the simple tale, the pathos and beauty of 
which has appealed to so many thousands. 

Ole Mammy’s Torment. 

“Ole Mammy’s Torment” has been fitly called “a 
classic of Southern life.” It relates the haps and mis- 
haps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by 
love and kindness to a knowledge of the right. 

The Story of Dago. 

In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, 
a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago 
tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mis- 
haps is both interesting and amusing. 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


3 


By EDITH ROBINSON 

A Little Puritan’s First Christmas : 

A Story of Colonial Times in Boston. 

A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how 
Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child 
of the Puritans, aided by her “ unregenerate ” brother, 
Sam. 

A Little Daughter of Liberty. 

The author’s motive for this story is well indicated 
by a quotation from her introduction, as follows : 

“ One ride is memorable in the early history of the 
American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul 
Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another 
ride, — untold in verse or story, its records preserved 
only in family papers or shadowy legend, the ride of 
Anthony Severn was no less historic in its action or 
memorable in its consequences.” 

A Loyal Little riaid. 

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary 
days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, 
renders important services to George Washington and 
Alexander Hamilton, and in the end becomes the wife of 
the latter. 

A Little Puritan Rebel. 

Like Miss Robinson’s successful story of “ A Loyal 
Little Maid,” this is another historical tale of a real girl, 
during the time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was 
governor of Massachusetts. 

A Little Puritan Pioneer. 

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settle- 
ment at Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds 
another to the list of favorites so well known to the 
young people in “ A Little Puritan Rebel,” etc. 


4 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY’S 


By OUIDA (Louise de la Ramde) 

A Dog of Flanders : A Christmas Story. 

Too well and favorably known to require description. 

The Niirnberg Stove. 

This beautiful story has never before been published 
at a popular price. 

A Provence Rose. 

A story perfect in sweetness and in grace. 

Findelkind. 

A charming story about a little Swiss herdsman. 

By MISS MULOCK 

The Little Lame Prince. 

A delightful story of a little boy who has many adven- 
tures by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother. 

Adventures of a Brownie. 

The story of a household elf who torments the cook 
and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the 
children who love and trust him. 

His Little Mother. 

Miss Mulock’s short stories for children are a constant 
source of delight to them, and “ His Little Mother,” in 
this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts 
of youthful readers. 

Little Sunshine’s Holiday. 

An attractive story of a summer outing. “ Little Sun- 
shine” is another of those beautiful child-characters for 
which Miss Mulock is so justly famous. 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


5 


By JULIANA HO RATI A EWING 

Jackanapes. 

A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite 
and touching story, dear alike to young and old. 

Story of a Short Life. 

This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. 
It is a part of the world’s literature, and will never die. 

A Great Emergency. 

How a family of children prepared for a great emer- 
gency, and how they acted when the emergency came. 

The Trinity Flower. 

In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. 
Ewing’s best short stories for the young people. 

Madam Liberality. 

From her cradle up Madam Liberality found her 
chief delight in giving. 

By TRANCES MARGARET FOX 

The Little Giant’s Neighbors. 

A charming nature story of a “little giant” whose 
neighbors were the creatures of the field and garden. 

Farmer Brown and the Birds. 

A little story which teaches children that the birds are 
man’s best friends. Miss Fox has an intimate knowl- 
edge of bird life and has written a little book which 
should take rank with “ Black Beauty ” and “ Beautiful 
Joe.” 

Betty of Old Mackinaw. 

A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to 
the little readers who like stories of “ real people.” 


b 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE 

The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow. 

This story, written by the gifted young Southern 
woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of 
the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style. 

The Fortunes of the Fellow. 

Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm 
of “The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow” will welcome 
the further account of the “ Adventures of Baydaw and 
the Fellow” at the home of the kindly smith among the 
Green Hills of Tennessee. 

By FRANCES HODGES WHITE 

Helena’s Wonderworld. 

A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in 
the mysterious regions beneath the sea. 

Aunt Nabby’s Children. 

This pretty little story, touched with the simple humo • 
of country life, tells of two children, who, adopted by 
Aunt Nabby, have also won their way into the affections 
of the village squire. 

By CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT 

The Prince of the Pin Elves. 

A fascinating story of the underground adventures of 
a sturdy, reliant American boy among the elves and 
gnomes. 

The Water People. 

A companion volume and in a way a sequel to “ The 
Prince of the Pin Elves,” relating the adventures of 
“ Harry” among the “ water people.” While it has the 
same characters as the previous book, the story is com- 
plete in itself. 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


7 


By OTHER AUTHORS 

The Story of Rosy Dawn. By Pau- 
line Bradford Mackie. 

The Christmas of little Wong Jan, or “ Rosy Dawn,” 
a young Celestial of San Francisco, is the theme of this 
pleasant little story. 

Susan ne. By Frances J. Delano. 

This little story will recall in sweetness and appealing 
charm the work of Kate Douglas Wiggin and Laura E. 
Richards. 

ITillicent in Dreamland. By Edna s. 

Brainerd. 

The quaintness and fantastic character of Millicent’s 
adventures in Dreamland have much of the fascination 
of “ Alice in Wonderland,” and all small readers of 
“Alice” will enjoy making Millicent’s acquaintance. 

Jerry’s Adventures. By Evelyn Snead 
Barnett. 

This is an interesting and wholesome little story of 
the change that came over the thoughtless imps on Jef- 
ferson Square when they learned to know the stout- 
hearted Jerry and his faithful Peggy. 

A Bad Penny. By John T. Wheelwright. 

No boy should omit reading this vivid story of the 
New England of 1812. 

Gatty and I. By Frances E. Crompton. 

The small hero and heroine of this little story are 
twins, “strictly brought up.” It is a sweet and whole- 
some little story. 


8 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


The Fairy of the Rhone. By A. Comyns 
Carr. 

Here is a fairy story indeed, one of old-fashioned pure 
delight. It is most gracefully told, and accompanied by 
charming illustrations. 

A Small Small Child. By E. Livingston 
Prescott. 

“ A Small Small Child ” is a moving little tale of 
sweet influence, more powerful than threats or punish- 
ments, upon a rowdy of the barracks. 

Peggy’s Trial. By Mary Knight Potter. 

Peggy is an impulsive little woman of ten, whose 
rebellion from a mistaken notion of loyalty, and her sub- 
sequent reconciliation to the dreaded “ new mother,” are 
most interestingly told. 

For His Country. By Marshall Saunders, 

author of “ Beautiful Joe,” etc. 

A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved 
his country; written with that charm which has endeared 
Miss Saunders to hosts of readers. 

La Belle Nivernaise. the story of an 
Old Boat and Her Crew. By Alphonse 
Daudet. 

All who have read it will be glad to welcome an old 
favorite, and new readers will be happy to have it 
brought to their friendly attention. 

Wee Dorothy. By Laura updegraff. 

A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion 
of the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and 
setting. With a bit of sadness at the beginning, the 
story is otherwise bright and sunny, and altogether 
wholesome in every way. 


COSY CORNER SERIES 


9 

Rab and His Friends. By Dr. John 
Brown. 

Doctor Brown’s little masterpiece is too well known 
to need description. The dog Rab is loved by all. 

The Adventures of Beatrice and 

Jessie. By Richard Mansfield. 

The story of two little girls who were suddenly trans- 
planted into the “ realms of unreality,” where they met 
with many curious and amusing adventures. 

A Child's Garden of Verses. By r. 

L. Stevenson. 

Mr. Stevenson’s little volume is too well known to 
need description. It will be heartily welcomed in this 
new and attractive edition. 

Little King Davie. By Nellie Hellis. 

The story of a little crossing-sweeper, that will make 
many boys thankful they are not in the same position. 
Davie’s accident, hospital experiences, conversion, and 
subsequent life, are of thrilling interest. 

The Sleeping Beauty. A Modern Ver- 
sion. By Martha B. Dunn. 

This charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, 
intellectually “asleep” until she meets the “Fairy 
Prince,” reminds us of “ Ouida ” at her best. 

The Young Archer. By Charles E. Brim- 

BLECOM. 

A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accom- 
panied Columbus on his voyage to the New World. 
His loyalty and services through vicissitudes and dan- 
gers endeared him to the great discoverer, and the 
account of his exploits will be interesting to all boys. 


io L. C. PAGE & GO'S. COSY CORNER SERIES 


The Making of Zimri Bunker: a 

Tale of Nantucket. By W. J. Long, Ph. D. 

This is a charming story of Nantucket folk by a 
young clergyman who is already well known through 
his contributions to the Youth's Companion, St. Nicho- 
las, and other well-known magazines. The story deals 
with a sturdy American fisher lad, during the war of 
1812. 

The King of the Golden River: a 

Legend of Stiria. By John Ruskin. 

Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally 
intended for publication, this little fairy tale soon 
became known and made a place for itself. 

Little Peterkin Vandike. By Charles 

Stuart Pratt. 

The author’s dedication furnishes a key to this charm- 
ing story : 

“ I dedicate this book, made for the amusement (and 
perchance instruction) of the boys who may read it, to 
the memory of one boy, who would have enjoyed as 
much as Peterkin the plays of the Poetry Party, but 
who has now marched, as they will march one day, out 
of the ranks of boyhood into the ranks of young man- 
hood.” 


Will o’ the Hill. By Robert Louis 
Stevenson. 

An allegorical story by this inimitable and versatile 
writer. Its rare poetic quality, its graceful and delicate 
fancy, its strange power and fascination, justify its 
separate publication. 


THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES 

By MARY HAZELTON WADE 
FIRST SERIES 

These are the most interesting and delightful accounts 
possible of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint say- 
ings, doings, and adventures. The “ Little Japanese 
Cousin,” with her toys in her wide sleeve and her tiny bag of 
paper handkerchiefs ; the “ Litde Brown Cousin,” in whose 
home the leaves of the breadfruit-tree serve for plates and 
the halves of the cocoanut shells for cups ; the “ Little 
Indian Cousin,” who lives the free life of the forest, and the 
“ Little Russian Cousin,” who dwells by the wintry Neva, 
are truly fascinating characters to the little cousins who 
will read about them. 

Four volumes, as follows: 

Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Brown Cousin 
Our Little Indian Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 

Each i vol., i2mo, cloth decorative, with 6 full-page 

illustrations in tints, by L. J. Bridgman. 

Price, per volume . . . $0.50 net (postage extra) 

Price, per set, 4 vols., boxed . 2.00 tiet (postage extra) 

“Juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and instruction 
out of Mary Hazelton Wade’s Little Cousin Series. . . . Pleas- 
ing narratives give pictures of the little folk in the far-away lands 
in their duties and pleasures, showing their odd ways of playing, 
studying, their queer homes, clothes, and playthings. • • • The 
style of the stories is all that can be desired for entertainment, 
the author describing things in a very real and delightful 
fashion.” — Detroit News- Tribune. 


THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES 

By MARY HAZELTON WADE 

SECOND SERIES 

The great success and prompt appreciation which this 
charming little series met last season has led to its continua- 
tion this year with a new set of child characters from other 
lands, each as original and delightful as the little foreign 
cousins with whom the little cousins at home became ac- 
quainted in last season’s series. 

Six volumes, as follows : 

Our Little Cuban Cousin 
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 
Our Little Eskimo Cousin 
Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little African Cousin 

Each i vol., i2mo, cloth decorative, with 6 full-page 

illustrations in tints by L. J. Bridgman. 

Price, per volume . . . $0.50 net (postage extra) 

Price, per set, 6 vols., boxed . 3.00 net (postage extra) 

“ Boys and girls, reading the tales of these little cousins in 
different parts of the world, will gain considerable knowledge of 
geography and the queer customs that are followed among 
strange people.” — Chicago Evening Post. 

“ Not only are the books interesting, but they are entertain- 
ingly instructive as well, and when entertainment can sugar-coat 
instruction, the book is one usually well worth placing in the 
hands of those to whom the knowledge will be useful.” — Utica 
Observer. 

“ To many youthful minds this little series of books may open 
up the possibilities of a foreign world to which they had been 
total strangers. And interest in this wider sphere, the beyond 
and awayness, may bear rich fruit in the future.” — N. Y. Com- 
mercial Advertiser. 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


The Little Colonel’s House Party. By 

Annie Fellows Johnston. Illustrated by Louis Meynell. 
One vol., library i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . $1.00 

The Little Colonel’s Holidays. By Annie 

Fellows Johnston. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . . $1.50 

The Little Colonel’s Hero. By Annie Fel- 
lows Johnston. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative, fully illus- 
trated ..... $1 .20 net (postage extra) 

In these three stories Mrs. Johnston once more introduces 
us to the “ Little Colonel,” the dainty maiden who has already 
figured as the heroine of two previous stories, “ The Little 
Colonel” and “Two Little Knights of Kentucky,” and who 
has won her way into the hearts of old and young alike. She 
is more winsome and lovable than ever. 

Since the time of “ Little Women,” no juvenile heroine has 
been better beloved of her child readers than Mrs. Johnston’s 
“ Little Colonel.” 

A Puritan Knight Errant. By Edith Robin- 
son, author of “ A Little Puritan Pioneer,” “ A Little Puri- 
tan’s First Christmas,” “ A Little Puritan Rebel,” etc. 
Library i2mo, cloth decorative, illustrated 

$1.20 net (postage extra). 
The charm of style and historical value of Miss Robinson’s 
previous stories of child life in Puritan days have brought 
them wide popularity. Her latest and most important book 
appeals to a large juvenile public. The “knight errant” of 
this story is a little Don Quixote, whose trials and their ulti- 
mate outcome will prove deeply interesting to their reader. 


2 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


Ye Lyttle Salem Maide: a story of witch- 
craft. By Pauline Bradford Mackie. 

New illustrated edition. 

One volume, large i2mo, cloth, gilt top . . . $1.50 

A tale of the days of the reign of superstition in New Eng- 
land, and of a brave “lyttle maide,” of Salem Town, whose 
faith and hope and unyielding adherence to her word of honor 
form the basis of a most attractive story. A very convincing 
picture is drawn of Puritan life during the latter part of the 
seventeenth century. 

In Kings’ Houses : a tale of the days of 
Queen Anne. By Julia C. R. Dorr, author of “ A 
Cathedral Pilgrimage,” etc. 

New illustrated edition. 

One volume, large 1 2mo, cloth, gilt top . . . $1.50 

The story deals with one of the most romantic episodes in 
English history. Queen Anne, the last of the reigning Stuarts, 
is described with a strong yet sympathetic touch, and the 
young Duke of Gloster, the “ little lady,” and the hero of the 
tale, Robin Sandys, are delightful characterizations. 


Gulliver’s Bird Book. Being the Newly Dis- 
covered Strange Adventures of Lemuel Gulliver, 
Now for the First Time Described and Illus- 
trated. By L. J. Bridgman, author of “ Mother Goose 
and Her Wild Beast Show,” etc. 

With upwards of 100 illustrations in color, large 

quarto, cloth $1.50 

This is a most amusing and original book, illustrated with 
startlingly odd and clever drawings. If we may accept the 
account given in the preface, that renowned explorer, Lemuel 
Gulliver, left behind him certain memoirs which have re- 
mained unknown to the public up to the present day. Hav- 
ing now been brought to light and given to the world, these 
records establish beyond a doubt their author’s claim to be 
regarded as the discoverer of the Bouncing Ballazoon and a 
host of other creatures unknown to Darwin and Huxley. 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


3 


’Tilda Jane. By Marshall Saunders, author of 
“ Beautiful Joe,” etc. 

One vol., i2mo, fully illustrated, cloth, decorative 
cover ......... $1.50 

“ No more amusing and attractive child’s story has appeared for 
a long time than this quaint and curious recital of the adventures of 
that pitiful and charming little runaway. 

“ It is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books that 
win and charm the reader, and I did not put it down until I had 
finished it — honest! And I am sure that every one, young or old, 
who reads will be proud and happy to make the acquaintance of the 
delicious waif. 

“ I cannot think of any better book for children than this. I 
commend it unreservedly.” — Cyrus Townsend Brady. 


Miss Gray’s Girls ; or, Summer Days in the 
Scottish Highlands. By Jeannette A. Grant. 
With about sixty illustrations in half-tone and pen and ink 
sketches of Scottish scenery. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . . $1.00 

A delightfully told story of a summer trip through Scotland, 
somewhat out of the beaten track. A teacher, starting at 
Glasgow, takes a lively party of girls, her pupils, through the 
Trossachs to Oban, through the Caledonian Canal to Inver- 
ness, and as far north as Brora, missing no part of the match- 
less scenery and no place of historic interest. Returning 
through Perth, Stirling, Edinburgh, Melrose, and Abbotsford, 
the enjoyment of the party and the interest of the reader never 
lag. 


ChlimS. By Maria Louise Pool. Illustrated by L. 

J. Bridgman. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . . $1.00 

“ Chums” is a girls’ book, about girls and for girls. It re- 
lates the adventures, in school and during vacation, of two 
friends. It is full of mingled fun and pathos, and carries the 
reader along swiftly to the climax, which is reached all too 
soon. 


4 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 


Little Bermuda. By Maria Louise Pool. Illus- 
trated by Louis Meynell. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . . $1.00 

Young people will follow eagerly the adventures of “ Little 
Bermuda ” from her home in the tropics to a fashionable 
American boarding-school. The resulting conflict between 
the two elements in her nature, the one inherited from her 
New England ancestry, and the other developed by her West 
Indian surroundings, gave Miss Pool unusual opportunity for 
creating an original and fascinating heroine. 

Black Beauty I the Autobiography of a Horse. 
By Anna Sewell. New Illustrated Edition. With 
twenty-five full-page drawings by Winifred Austin. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top . $1.25 

There have been many editions of this classic, but we con- 
fidently offer this one as the most appropriate and handsome 
yet produced. The illustrations are of special value and 
beauty. Mr. Austin is a lover of horses, and has delighted in 
tracing with his pen the beauty and grace of the noble animal. 

Feats on the Fiord : A Tale of Norwegian 
Life. By Harriet Martineau. With about sixty 
original illustrations and a colored frontispiece. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.00 

This admirable book deserves to be brought to the attention 
of parents in search of wholesome reading for their children 
to-day. It is something more than a juvenile book, being 
really one of the most instructive books about Norway and 
Norwegian life and manners ever written. 

Timothy Dole. By Juniata Salsbury. With 
twenty-five illustrations. 

One vol., large i2mo, cloth decorative . . . $1.00 

The youthful hero starts from home, loses his way, meets 
with startling adventures, finds friends, kind and many, grows 
to be a manly man, and is able to devote himself to bettering 
the condition of the poor in the mining region of Pennsylvania. 


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